Off-Piste Performance: The skiing manual that even snowboarders should read
Preparation, understanding the mountain environment and a willingness to keep learning are among the key lessons in Alison Thacker’s guide, writes Roger Cox
I’m a big fan of the expression “good teachers are always learning.” Partly, I think, this is because I’m automatically suspicious of people who claim to have all the answers; partly it’s because I find modesty an attractive trait. That said, a teacher needs to have a certain level of expertise in their given area in order to command respect: a history lecturer who tells their first year university students that they don’t actually know much about history, “but hey kids, we’re all going to have fun learning about the Industrial Revolution together!” might find they don’t have too many people left on their course by the end of the first semester.
In her new book, Off-Piste Performance (Pesda Press, £20), Highlands-based ski instructor Alison Thacker strikes just the right balance between knowing her subject backwards and accepting that there is always more to learn. She undoubtedly has a huge well of experience to draw on: she represented both Scotland and Great Britain as a ski racer, gained the highest level of BASI ski instructor award aged just 20, and then spent 15 years working as an instructor in the challenging mountains around Chamonix. However, there’s also an evident desire to keep upping her own game, as well as helping others to improve.


This comes across most clearly in a story she tells about half-way through the book, about a few days she spent in the French Alps with the steep skiing legend Remy Lecluse in 2011, a year before he was killed in an avalanche. Already a ski instructor in her own right by this point, Thacker nevertheless booked some time with the French guide “so that I could tackle some steep slopes that I did not want to ski by myself.” It’s clear from her account of their time together that she didn’t just pick up tips about how to travel safely through steep terrain, but also absorbed some useful pointers on how to guide others effectively.
Off-Piste Performance isn’t making any claims to be a work of sports philosophy: it’s presented very much as an easy-to-use instruction manual, packed with illustrations and diagrams to help readers master the myriad challenges of off-piste skiing. What the Lecluse story shows, though, is that everything in the book stems from an appreciation that knowledge is a continuum – not something set in stone, to be hoarded by a select few, but something that’s constantly evolving, and ideally to be transmitted (and debated) as widely as possible, for the benefit of the whole tribe. “[Lecluse] was ‘the Godfather’ of steep skiing in every way,” Thacker writes. “I’ll continue to aspire to dance down ski slopes with the fluidity that he did and coach others to do the same.”
Speaking of tribes, regular readers of this column may reasonably ask what qualifies a dyed-in-the-wool snowboarder to attempt to pass comment on a book about skiing technique – and it’s certainly true that a lot of the drills and movements described in Off-Piste Performance are very much ski-specific. Then again, there’s a surprising amount of material here that applies just as much to snowboarders as it does to skiers, from how to read changing snow conditions as you progress from one part of a mountain to another to how to prepare yourself psychologically for dealing with steep or otherwise challenging terrain. So no, I probably won’t be thinking too much about pole planting next time I find myself riding something steep and narrow, as (like most snowboarders) I don’t tend to use ski poles when travelling downhill. I will, however, be taking a moment or two to visualise my line before diving in, and I’ll also be thinking more about my breathing, and how this relates to the rhythm of my turns.


Following a very thorough chapter on how to prepare for a day on the hill, taking in everything from equipment maintenance to physical fitness, the core of the book consists of three sections concerning specific techniques: Essential Skills, Key Movements and Turning. The first of these deals with the basics – how to put skis on in deep snow, how to get up from a fall, how to side-slip, side-step and traverse – the second deals with the all-important weight shifts that allow a skier to turn effectively, while the third focuses on the differences between two main types of turns, twisting and edging. In every case, the language is precise and the diagrams and photographs well-chosen, to the extent that, even for a non-skier, it’s always clear what’s going on.
Next, Thacker moves on to strategies for dealing with different types of snow, from ice to powder and everything in between, and different types of terrain, from bumps to trees, and to finish there’s a short chapter on additional skills (mostly situation-specific things like jump turns and double pole plants) and an informative closing volley of FAQs.
Importantly, nothing ever feels prescriptive – as Thacker writes in her introduction, “I believe there is often one solution to many problems, and equally, there can be many solutions to one problem. I have no intention for skiing to be learned solely from a book. Learning should be a holistic process, acknowledging that people learn in different ways. I believe and hope that this book will be part of the learning and development process for many.” Aspiring off-piste skiers and, yes, even snowboarders will certainly benefit from reading it, as will anyone interested in how to transmit complex information effectively.
For more on Alison Thacker, see https://www.offpiste.org.uk/
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